


Darling

by stars28



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-02-28 21:03:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars28/pseuds/stars28
Summary: Constance couldn’t have the Queen, no matter how much she wished.





	Darling

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Series 2.

_“In another life, darling, I'll do anything to be with you_  
_We can't have each other even if we wanted to…”_  
**\- Don’t Give Me Those Eyes, James Blunt.**

**I – Meeting Her.**

Constance’s first impression of the Queen upon meeting her is that she is a woman with the weight of France on her shoulders. Her second impression is that the Queen’s hands are soft and delicate as she clasps Constance’s own gently.

“Would you become one of my ladies-in-waiting, Madame Bonacieux?” The Queen asks, squeezing her fingers slightly.

In truth Constance has forgotten about her husband’s presence at her side until he speaks up.

“She would be delighted.”

“The position would, of course, require Madame Bonacieux to live in the Palace.”

“As Your Majesty wishes.” Constance’s husband goes down into a deep bow.

The Queen smiles brilliantly at Constance and for a moment it is as if the rest of the room doesn’t exist.

“I – thank you Your Majesty.” She says, helpless to do anything but return the smile.

“D’Artagnan spoke highly of you Constance, I hope that I will be able to trust you.”

She ducks down into a quick cutesy, replying, “Yes, you will, Your Majesty.”

Constance watches as the Queen leaves the room, her current ladies-in-waiting following her like ducklings, and sighs quietly. She feels as if the Queen saw into her very soul.

~

**II – Anne’s Kindness.**

Within the first few days of being one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting, it becomes apparent that even Constance’s fanciest dresses are shabby when compared with the ladies-in-waiting’s dresses, never mind when compared to the Queen’s dresses. Constance is willing to withstand all the subtle backhanded comments the ladies-in-waiting have begun making to her, but apparently the Queen is not.

“Come with me Constance.” The Queen hooks an arm through Constance’s, giving her no opportunity to protest or question where they were going.

They arrive at the Queen’s quarters within a few minutes. Constance lingers behind to allow the Queen through the double doors first and then follows, stepping into the large, highly decorative room.

“Constance, I would like to offer you some of my old cast offs.” The Queen explains, opening a wardrobe door to display all the gorgeous dresses, “As it has become apparent that the other ladies-in-waiting have been making comments about your dresses.”

At heart, Constance still thinks of herself as a seamstress, even if the title isn’t quite right anymore – she was one for such a long time – and she’s seen a great deal of beautiful dresses, has _made_ masses of beautiful dresses. But even she can’t help gasping at the row of dresses, the light hitting the sparkles on the dresses just perfectly. The dresses are truly beautiful, and Constance thinks, with a thrill running down her spine, that they – naturally – look even better on the Queen.

“Wow. Y-Your Majesty,” She shakes her head, clearing it a little, “I can’t take one of these. They’re… it’s too much.”

“Nonsense Constance,” The Queen says, gesturing for Constance to step forward and touch the dresses, “I insist. You can’t be dealing with the sniggers of the other ladies-in-waiting any longer. I won’t allow it.”

She steps forward, all too aware of the Queen’s kind eyes observing her, and brushes a hand over the nearest dress, which is gold and shines in the sunlight streaming through the large windows. She inhales sharply as she feels the softest silk under her fingertips and turns to the Queen, who is still watching her, a small smile on her face.

“Your Majesty, are you sure?” Constance questions, wanting to be sure that this is what the Queen wants.

“Yes Constance. I am.” The Queen laughs and then orders gently, “Come on. Try one of them on. Please.”

She cannot deny the Queen’s wishes, whatever they may be, and so she agrees to try one on. Carefully, she takes the golden dress out of the wardrobe and goes behind the screen on the opposite side of the room. She removes off her blue dress so she’s stood in her undergarments. A thrill that she doesn’t quite understand goes down her spine at the thought of the Queen being on the other side of the screen.

Constance shakes herself from her musings and pulls the dress over her head before she can have second thoughts. She grumbles a little as she struggles to do it up.

“Constance, would you like a hand?”

She startles, her fingers slipping from the ties on the dress, and then replies, “Are you sure?”

Instead of replying, the Queen steps around the screen and begins to tighten the ties. Constance is in shock, surely it should be the other way around. But then the Queen did insist that she try on one of her dresses, so she tries to take it in her stride and ignore the way that the Queen’s delicate fingers keep trailing across the bare skin of her back.

“There, all done.” The Queen says quietly, her dress rustling as she steps backwards.

Constance takes a breath, testing out how tight the Queen has done the dress up, and turns around, stepping out from behind the screen. Before she has chance to see herself in a mirror, the Queen gasps and clasps her hands together.

“Yes. You look simply exquisite!”

She blushes as she curtsies on instinct, murmuring reverently, “Thank you Your Majesty.”

“There’s no need to thank me; I simply helped you to avoid any more nasty comments from my other ladies-in-waiting.” Her Majesty says, a smile on her lips, “Also, call me Anne. We’re friends now, are we not?”

Constance has to agree that they are. And there is no one she would wish to be friends with more.

~

**III – The Queen’s Forgiveness.**

Constance is expecting a serious reprimand from Anne, or even dismissal from her position in the court. But there is nothing. No sternly worded admonishment, no subtle discharge from a courtier. Instead, Anne allows her to attend her that night after her son is seen safely to the nursery, where he is under the protection of the Musketeers and his nursery maid. She understands nothing of what is going through Anne’s mind, so it is with trepidation that she asks Anne what is wrong.

As Anne takes off her earrings and lays them on the dresser, she replies, “Constance, I thought it would take more time for me to forgive you. But it seems that seeing my son, the heir to the whole of France, breathing easily for the first time in a week has allowed me to forgive you.”

She is speechless, unable to comprehend what Anne is saying. She had essentially stolen her son in the dead of night.

“A-are you sure?” Constance says after a few minutes.

“Yes,” Anne says determinedly, a fierce fire in her blue eyes, “I am. You saved my son and that is a debt I can never repay.”

~

**IV – Trouble.**

Constance knows that her love for the Queen is doomed, but that doesn’t stop her heart from breaking into tiny pieces when she discovers Anne and Aramis kissing in the tent.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” She exclaims, her right hand going to cover her mouth in shock. This isn’t what she had been expecting when she’d entered the tent to collect Anne for Athos and d’Artagnan, who had got the horses ready.

Aramis disappears outside through the tent opening before she can make a move either way. Constance’s mouth hangs open in the most ungainly manner, but she doesn’t have the presence of mind to close it. Her brain is focused on the slightly parted, damp lips of the Queen. She wonders absently if she would be welcomed as Aramis was if she attempted to kiss Anne. She doubts it.

“Constance.”

Her eyes flick up from Anne’s lips to her eyes and she says, “Yes?”

“I’m aware that I cannot forbid you from telling anybody,” Anne says, twisting her fingers together nervously, “But I would hope that you would keep this secret for me.”

Constance already knows that she would keep any secret of Anne’s to herself, even if they involve her own heartbreak and may put her in danger. She realises that she is required to respond to her Queen’s request.

“Your Majesty, I will keep this a secret.” She vows, “No one will hear about this from me.”

Anne moves towards Constance and then her brain stops working properly as Anne’s arms encircle her in a brief but welcome hug. Then Anne steps backwards, saying, “Thank you Constance. Truly I mean it.”

Constance can still feel the warmth of Anne’s hug, her blood buzzing from the easy contact with the Queen, and so she smiles, falling into an easy curtsey out of habit and in deference to her love’s authority.

~

**V – Acceptance, How It Hurts.**

By the time Constance’s husband is in the ground – which she doesn’t feel sorry about and has no regrets about her feelings either – she has accepted that the Queen will never feel as she does. Although, that doesn’t stop her heart from throbbing at how content the Queen appears to be with her son and the King. She cannot complain though, she has friends within the Inseparables and d’Artagnan.

Constance can deal with being a close friend of Anne, Queen of France and mother to the heir of France. That’s what she told herself.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this has been on the go since early October 2017, so that gives you an idea of how long I’ve been working on this fic. I like it though.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are more than welcome.


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